


Burning Fire, Burning Rage

by TheLandMaster



Category: Berserk (Anime & Manga), Dark Souls (Video Games)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Crossover, Fantasy, Gen, Horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:35:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27209008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLandMaster/pseuds/TheLandMaster
Summary: The guardian of the First Flame was felled, and their duty had been finished. Yet now, they hold the Flame once more, and upon a land where fire is not a gift of the heavens. And amidst this darkened land, where horrors worse than Humanity prowl, their path crosses with that of a black swordsman... One who holds the flame of vengeance upon his heart.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

Hungry…

Hungry…

Hungry, hungry, hungry, so very, very hungry…

How long had it been since he’d eaten? The taste still lingered in his tongue, his stomach still craved it, his nostrils still twitched at the memory…

Food, how he wanted food…

He had given up everything, and now he couldn’t even find food? How could this be...

Villages had been empty, too, nothing to offer.

So hungry… so very, very hungry.

Meat. I need meat… Meat would be good, meat would be great—

…!

Wait… Wait… What’s that? This smell… Something’s burning. Something’s burning a lot.

And that smell… Meat… Meat? Meat! Sweet, delicious meat! Right there, for the picking!

Oooohhhh, I can’t wait, how long has it been! I want to taste meat again! So succulent, so delicious! I still remember, the taste…

That woman had so much tasty flesh!

And her kids, oh… So supple! Those three screamed real good!

Good memories, right after he won everything he did now, the village had been so much food!

How long has it been, it doesn’t even have to be a feast! Just tear up some meat, feel the blood and the squirming!

I SACRIFICED FOR THIS! WHERE IS THE MEAT?!

AH, THERE! JUST STANDING THERE! HEH, BURNING HIS SWORD FOR WARMTH!

COME HERE! MEAT! MEATMEATMEATMEATMEATMEATMEAT!

ME--!!

…

**-O-**

He had been an enemy of those who ruled the tides of fate for as long as he had donned this armor. Their spawns, born out of desire and spite to keep living, creatures made by the selfishness and sacrifice of their last dregs of compassion and humanity, twisted into visages meant to instill fear and despair upon those beneath them.

In the end, those who had forgotten their pain and hardened their hearts were reminded of their own mortality by his blade, or by those few who had the strength to stand on their own against the monsters that threatened them.

And yet, in his hundreds of years of fighting… At this moment, the one known as Skull Knight beheld something unlike anything he had witnessed before. But it was not the scores of dead Apostles upon the ground, their mangled bodies swimming in pools of blood only they seemed capable of creating. It was not the scorched earth, with patches of molten stone and still burning flames consuming all they could to perpetuate their existence. And it was not this alien sense of serenity and warm brought to a battlefield so grizzly.

It was the figure sitting upon the middle of the whirlwind of death, watching the burning flame of their own weapon, with one leg drawn against their own body and their head bowed down. Within that figure burned something… Fantastical. A power that until now, he had only witnessed as a wave of darkness within the boundaries at the edge of the world. But that was a dying light, cast upon five angels of condemnation.

This… Was a sun. Bright, incandescent, a beacon against darkness.

A symbol of hope.

The Skull Knight rode onto the clearing calmly, sword still at his hip and shield held passively as he approached the figure and took in their now more visible features.

They were tall, very much so, close to the height of the taller Apostles in their human forms, yet with a lean build, far more human in its proportions. Greaves, gauntlets and vambraces glistened lightly with the fire, with chainmail beneath them and covering the rest of the body. A leather belt and pouches hung from their waist, and a cloth cape covered their chest, shoulders and neck, with a faint glimmer of metal revealing the pauldrons and breastplate beneath. And lastly, a plate closed helmet, shrouded by a thick cloth hood and with a grill visor hiding their face.

Their sword, resting on the ground and wreathed in flames, had a curious spiral shape, and seemed to glow from an inner fire more-so than being set ablaze itself. Upon the figure’s back rested an ornate black-and-gold bow alongside a golden sword-like spear, and a rotten-looking curved sword upon the right side of their hip, the likes of which he had not seen before.

The figure raised their head to face the rider but made no further moves as the skeletal rider closed the distance and stopped short of the improvised bonfire, resting his glowing yellow eyes onto the crackling flames.

“There are not many who hold the claim of wielding power such as this” finally spoke the Skull Knight. “Nor there are many who stand against the spawns of the dark and won”. The figure watched him for a moment longer, before returning its gaze to the burning blade.

“… It is not by self-desire that I raise my blade… Or perhaps, not of desire of what I represent, but instead of what has made me unto what I am”

“And what will be this, that seems to beckon your power?”

“The will of a thousand kings, to whose crowns I have no right, but to whose bodies and souls I have long taken”. Both figures remained still, their gaze transfixed on each object of their attention, with the only sounds being the crackling of embers and the slight breeze of the wind, until finally the cloaked knight spoke once more. “Yet I know my duty, and need not leave here to fulfill it”.

“A duty, you say”

“The flame is alight once more. It burns not for a world, not for an age of gods and those that followed them… But for me. In me. And for long as I remain, it will continue to burn, as my purpose commands it to”

“So you would surrender your existence to such a fire, and fade away as the world weaves its paths around you?” asked the rider, his voice still solemn even as memories raced past in his mind. “This flame, that burns so brilliantly, yet seems to give naught but a beacon for those that covet it?”

The figure remained silent once more, head bowed down in thought. And after what seemed as an eternity, they finally rose from the ground, their full height giving them full view to gaze at the same level as the knight on horseback. “Then what purpose would you give me, that this fire cannot? To what end would I raise my blade, if not to allow this flame of beginning to burn ever more?”. They reached a hand up, and in their palm a small ember formed, yet that small kindle seemed to burn as bright as the sun itself amidst the darkness that surrounded them. “This land… Here, fire is not a treasure. It is not a divine object, meant to be treasured and to be kept safe. Here, fire is as common as man, and is deemed a common thing… A mundane reality of life… What can a land like this receive from a fire they never possessed?”.

At those words, the Skull Knight reached into his armor, and from within it withdrew a small stone with facial features spread all throughout. For many, it was a trinket, macabre as it looked. But to him, it was a damned object, an offering only the most agonized of hearts would find themselves holding.

And as he knew it would be, to the unknown figure it was just as damnable an object.

“There are those, beyond the walls that mark this realm, who twist the currents of causality and bring upon the suffering of mankind, preying upon the hearts of those that dive into despair to bring forth their apostles. They are ones that inhabit pure darkness, and where no light will ever reach… But you, mayhap, can bring not light, but flame to their realm”. The Skull Knight raised the cursed stone above his head, and lowered it onto his open jaw, before gazing once more at the figure. “The fire within you is as the sun, merciless and all-consuming… But it has no will. Your purpose is granted not by this flame, but by the thousands before you who held that wish. The wish to see this flame burn evermore. What you wish… That, is something you seem not to have ever given thought to”.

The figure remained silent, simply lowering their head to stare at the blood-covered ground, when suddenly the sound of rustling leaves began growing louder and louder as something approached. A beast?

No… An Apostle.

The Skull Knight turned towards the source of the rustling foliage, just as a large dog-like demon burst through the timber and leaves, its malformed legs propelling it and its massive, tooth-laden maw forward as it eyed the towering figure hungrily.

“MEAT!” it cried out, its longue spiny tongue lolling out of its mouth as drool splashed from inside it. “MEATMEATMEATMEATMEATMEATMEAT!”. The Apostle leapt into the air, opening its maw wider than any animal could ever hope for, and aimed it straight at the two knights. “ME--!!“

A flash of light. It was all the normal eye could have hoped to perceive.

Yet the Skull Knight watched as, faster than any human had the hope of being, a brilliant sword of blue light formed in the figure’s hand, the cloaked warrior quickly slashing upwards at the Apostle and releasing a blade of light that shot through the abomination’s body, slicing it clean down the middle. With a spurt of blood, both halves were sent flying to the sides, the apostle’s innards charred into ash as they toppled onto the pooled blood beneath on the ground, just another body in the carnage.

“… What purpose would you offer to me, then?”

“There is a man that walks this land. One branded by those above causality, deemed their sacrifice upon his death, and to be hunted by beasts of darkness as he crosses the interstice between the world of body and that of soul” said the Skull Knight as he mounted back upon his horse. “He is a struggler, one who will not fall prey easily to those that dwell upon the limit of both worlds. Yet… Even he, I believe, would find the respite of your flame welcome. Find him, and perhaps… Your path will show itself”. And with those parting words, the Skull Knight rode away from the bonfire, the only thing left behind of his presence being the fading waves upon the blood on the ground.

And as the figure watched the knight ride away, they stared onto the burning sword once more, seeing the embers floating away from it, and the fire that dwelled both around it… And within it. The last time they had taken up that blade, had been for their final duel… A duel against a warrior hellbent on their purpose, and who held their own wishes for the flame that gave birth to a world, and sustained it for eons until then.

Until the Ashen One came.

Yet perhaps… This was for the best.

And as the figure pulled the sword from the bonfire, and sheathed their Firelink Blade upon their hip to join the Frayed Blade, the Dragonslayer Swordspear and the Dragonrider Bow already on their body, they felt the First Flame roar as if in agreement, its heat making their skin glow faintly with the fire within and cinders to fall upon the ground.

Born of a thousand kings… Heir to none of their crowns, but holder of all their strength and memories.

Once called the Soul of Cinder. Now…

Now, Lord of Flame.

**-O-**

Sitting inside a cart, trying to rest before the horrors of the night came to take away his sleep and give instead nightmares, the Black Swordsman caught a glimpse of something in the skies above of his dream realm.

A scorching, blazing sun.


	2. Chapter 2

This really couldn’t get any worse…

First he had walked the entire goddamn day through this forest. Then night ended up coming a lot faster than it had seemed, so that meant no goddamn sleep for him again. _Then_ it started to rain, so now he was inside a hole in a dead tree, using his cape for whatever meager cover it gave and _still_ soaking wet from all this water.

And now a bunch of fucking bandits just _had_ to camp out right where he was resting. And they just wouldn’t _shut up_.

Nevermind that the little bug that had tagged along kept saying something about some girl needing rescue… It was her problem she got into this, let her take care of it herself. He just wanted some sleep before the monsters started showing up—

… Hold on a second…

What had one of those idiots just said? About some sacrifice tree and staking people’s guts…

…

Ah, hell… And off goes the bug too. The night was gonna be long…

And so, Guts only watched as a little deformed dwarf of a bandit pointed his old, bent dagger at him, lightning striking just at the right time to frame his cloak-covered soaked form. With a grunt, the branded swordsman stood up and pulled back his cowl, watching impassive as the bandits stumbled back in shock.

“W-Who the hell’re you?!” shouted one of them, which he couldn’t be assed to tell. Instead, all Guts did was let out a “tch” of annoyance as he stared blankly ahead.

“Can’t even catch a wink anymore…” grumbled the branded warrior aloud.

“H-How long’ve you been there, bastard?!” said the smallest of the bandits, waving his dagger around.

“Since long before you all started jabbering”

“Y-You… You making a fool of me?” stammered the diminutive man, waving his dagger around in what Guts could only imagine he considered a threatening display. “Y-You better don’t screw with me, man… We could always drag _your_ bowels out instead of the girl’s—”

“Never mind that”

“Gheh?!—WHEHAAAAAAA--!!”

The other bandits didn’t quite know what to do when the towering man simply walked past Dig and sliced the little man’s tongue with his own knife, blood spurting out from the cut, then simply walked up to their boss who while somewhat wider than the newcomer, was still shorter.

“Was that story true?”

“Huh?”

“About the tree. The staking intestines and all that”

“… Yeah. What about it? Wanna join the club for it?” grumbled the bandit leader, his hand itching as it moved towards his twin flail. And to their surprise, the large man simply let out another harsh “tch” and looked away into the forest.

“Honestly… This sucks. Can’t believe I got out of the rain somewhere like _this_. Lack of sleep’s making me stupid…” grumbled Guts, before turning once more to the bandit leader. “Oi, this is none of my business… But you all better leave _now_. Otherwise you’re dying tonight”.

Once more, the bandits didn’t quite know how to reply to the swordsman. They simply stood, staring from the man to each other…

Then they laughed. They snickered and chortled, as they began encircling the cloaked warrior and drawing their weapons. The hostage girl, who had been watching everything with fearful and shocked eyes, took advantage of the shift of attention to back away from the imminent fight.

“That’s the last thing I thought I’d hear from this fool” spoke up one of the bandits as he waved his sword around.

“Ya don’t realize the position you’re in now?” asked the leader, smacking the handle of his flail against his palm. “Heheh… Ya made my buddy bleed. I ain’t forgetting that… So… I’ll give ya one chance. Drop all your goods and _split_ ”. Yet Guts paid them no mind. He instead simply glanced aside back to the tree, a look of pure boredom in his face, even as the leader’s face scrunched in building anger until finally, the man reared his flail back and spun it. “Move it or yer head gets smashed!”.

_Shnk… Shnk… Shnk…_

Yet the sound of metal crunching pulled the attention of all in the clearing, however, as they turned in the direction of the sound and stared at the arriving figure.

Garbed in a cloak even heavier looking that Guts’, and covering every inch of their body, no one could really tell who or _what_ was beneath. But one thing they could tell: they were _massive_. The figure towered even over Guts, staring down at the gathered people as their cowl turned from one person to another, finally settling upon the black-clad swordsman.

“ _Who the hell’s this guy?_ ” thought the branded one, his remaining natural hand twitching in desire to draw his weapon. “ _The brand’s reacting to them but… It ain’t the same like an Apostle. It feels… Warm…_ ”

“Step aside. My goals are with him, not any of you” rumbled the figure, their voice distorted and metallic. “Leave, lest you suffer death”.

“W-What’s with this g-guy…” mumbled the foppishly dressed bandit, his sword shaking in his grip as he stared at the figure. “Y-You got some beef with us, h-huh?!”

“Y-Yeah, you better le-leave or we’ll… W-We’ll gut ya too, ya hear!” spoke up another of the group. With much hesitation, the three underlings began inching closer to the new arrival, their weapons trembling uncontrollably in their hands. “You got something f-fancy to hide there, eh? Well fork it o-over, if ya don’t wanna end up dead!”. The figure looked down at the bandits, making them recoil back to where they had stood before, before shifting their gaze to behind the grouped people.

“Your decision is made then, it appears” they spoke, drawing away the cowl atop their head to reveal a metal helm with the top molten to reassemble a crown, with embers flying from the still burning crown. Out of the corner of his eye, Guts saw a slight shift beneath the cloak, the slightest hint of a hand moving towards a weapon. Just as he made to reach for Dragonslayer, however, the feeling upon his brand changed into something far more familiar, and a minute trickle of blood ran down his neck.

“ _Here it comes_ ”

And thus, as a massive shadow began looming over the gathered group, the sound of creaking wood and pained moans echoed all around as the bandits slowly turned around, only to meet their prophesized death, and its bringer.

Twisted, contorted and mutated, the tree that had been covered in face-like deformities now found itself covered in sneering and manic visages, their dull grey eyes unfocused and staring into all directions, their jagged fangs formed from the crude, decayed bark itself yet seeming as sharp and lethal as the weapons held by the bandits in front of it. Its branches twisted and spun onto one another to form crude arms and fingers, as monstrous as its bearer. And the abomination quickly put it to good use.

As the bandits gaped at the newborn horror, the tree brought one of its newformed limbs down like a hammer at the closest target, that being the foppishly-dressed bandit. The man utter nary a scream before the wooden appendage smashed his body apart as if made of paper, spraying blood and organs all around and splashing the surviving ones with the errant innards. Grasping the shredded remains in its branches, the tree lifted the ruined corpse to its trunk and pressed it against the largest of its maws, sinking its fangs into the fresh meat. Bits and pieces fell onto the ground, most of it taken back by the tree’s roots, and as the cursed thing fed on the fresh kill, the remaining bandits ran, screaming and begging for a God they had abandoned to save them.

Left behind by her captors, the little girl could do nothing but watch the monstrous spectacle in front of her as her legs gave beneath her, her knees soaking themselves on the blood and water mixing upon the mud, and her urine flushed between her legs to stain her dress and the ground. The faint sound, however, drew upon her the attention and hunger of the demonic tree, another of its branches shot forward with wooden fingers ready to once more tear apart their victims. Tears ran down her eyes…

She felt the wind roar past her and her clothes flap around as above her a massive weapon was swung, a blur of grey and black passing just short of her head to crash against the cursed tree. Rotten, demonic wood gave way to metal as the attack tore the crude branch arm into miniscule splinters, tainted black blood gushing out in droves from the broken bark. The faces screamed in agony as the first wound they had suffered in so many years jolted through what little spirit and mind still remained, the branches flailing wildly and coating the tree with the blackened ichor. The girl finally stared up at her savior and saw the feral, eager grin spread across his face, his black cloak billowing around him like a mantle cut from darkness.

“Heh… Now it’s _really_ too wet for firewood” he chuckled, raising his sword over his back once more and onto the young girl’s view.

No… It was much too big to be called a sword.

Massive, thick, heavy and far too rough.

Indeed. It was like a heap of raw iron.

**-O-**

It had been two years since they had crossed the boundaries of the Abyss and arrived upon this world after the flameless one stroke them down at the steps of the gate to the First Flame. Two years to coalesce their body and soul into the shape they had claimed as theirs for so many years, to reforge into creation their weapons and to return the knowledge of the arcane to their memory so their duty as guardian of the flame could be fulfilled once more.

And now, two weeks after they had met a knight clad in skeletal armor and clad in an aura of majesty, the reborn Lord of Flame watched as the branded swordsman they had been advised to seek wielded a sword large enough to rival Artorias’ own and challenged a creature wreathed in a malice not unlike that of the Hollowed Ones. Yet worryingly, from the swordsman’s heart emanated a hatred just as bright and furious. Was this the reason the knight had offered him the task?

They'd have their answers later, when they were all alive.

With speed and agility belying of his size, the Lord of Flame threw themselves forward, drawing the Dragonslayer Swordspear from their back and thrusting it towards the demonic tree. The knight was a blur of cloth and embers as they rushed past the girl and the swordsman, the golden spear shining in the scant light amidst the storm before it buried itself on the cursed bark. Blackened blood spurted from the wound as the tree once more screamed in agony, its eyes turning wildly from the black swordsman to the burning knight striking it, before it lashed out with all of its remaining branches at the two.

Reacting quickly, Guts gripped Dragon Slayer with both his hands and lashed out, striking each attacking limb into dust with lightning-fast movements. Beside him, the Lord of Flame drew back their own Dragonslayer and twirled it around by its shaft, the golden blade blurring as it slashed away at the jagged wood and tore away each and every attack. And amidst this whirlwind of death, the little girl could do nothing but gape and watch in awe the two warriors battle the demonic thing, feeling the wind and heat building around her even as the rain continued to pour all around them.

“SACRIFICE… SACRIFICE…” roared the tree, rearing back its arms and slamming them down once more. Rather than retreating, Guts dashed forward, weaving his way through the wildly flailing branches as they tried and failed to grasp at the swordsman. With its limbs uselessly grasping at air, Guts took his sword and thrust it forward, running the trunk through and near splitting the tree in half. Blood once more erupted in torrents from the tree, its few remaining faces twisting further and further into masks of agony and anger as their body was torn asunder further. Seeing the man on the offensive, the Lord of Flame drew back the swordspear close to their body, placed both hands upon the shaft and ran their right hand down its length.

The First Flame roared as its power was drawn upon, the crackle and rumbling of lightning that had once sundered the skies and the scales of dragons echoing faintly into the air. The Lord felt the ghost of a time past grip the Dragonslayer alongside him, drawing upon the strength of a king whose name was stripped of meaning and history, who had once braved the scorching of the Flame against the wishes of his father, and joined the ancient beasts he had sworn to hunt when the primordial fire rejected him.

The monarch of drakes had been rejected… But his might had been remembered.

The Lord thrust the swordspear up just as Guts drew his sword from inside the bark and leapt backwards, and from their weapon flowed the lightning of gods. Golden bolts streaked into the sky and disappeared into the clouds, their roar echoing tenfold all around, before returning onto the ground as one massive pillar of light, striking down with divine fury at the demonic tree in a blinding flash and deafening roar. The young girl covered her ears, closed her eyes and screamed in shock when the godly light stroke down, but suddenly found herself shielded from the destruction by a large shadow. The girl squinted, expecting to still see the monstrous tree and the bolt of lightning destroying it, but instead saw only the massive figure of the burning knight towering over her, wrapping their massive cloak around her small body for protection. Finally, after what seemed to feel like an eternity, the rumbling and light died down, and the Lord of Flames stepped away from the girl and allowed her to witness the end results of the attack.

The rain had stopped, and where once had been a creature of darkness and blood, of wood molded by anger and resentment, now stood only a pile of charred coal with traces of its haunting semblances. Its branches slowly dissolved into ash in the wind as a light gale blew through the clearing, and from the destroyed object something began to flow out.

The girl watched as they squeezed themselves from the cracks of the burned bark or drifted away from the undoing ashes, spirits of twisted faces and skeletal bodies floating out into the open as above, the clouds parted and sunlight beamed down to banish away the dreary darkness, and the spirits began disappearing as the sunlight beamed down on them.

“Heh… First I’ve seen of the sun in three days…” chuckled Guts as he hoisted Dragon Slayer onto his back and turned towards the burning knight, seeing him put away his own weapon. The young girl watched the two figures gaze at one another in silent contemplation, when suddenly a creaking sound drew her attention off to the side.

Suddenly, a lone surviving root grew a small face upon it and forced the root forward, in a vain attempt to bite down on the girl. Startled, she hopped back, but before the surviving spirit could harm her, a small burdock fell upon the cursed root and stabbed onto it, surprisingly drawing away the small spirit still residing within it and allowing it to vanish into the sunlight like the others.

“The Death-Strike Bloody Needle” called out a child-like voice in a whimsical tone from beside her. The girl turned and saw a small figure flying beside her, holding another burdock with two pieces of twigs. It was a tiny little figure, looking like a young boy but completely naked, with a completely smooth and fair-skinned body, two long ears, bug-like wings and spiky blue hair. The little one was grinning at her playfully as he played with the spiked ball atop him. “They always go running when you whack them with one of these~”. Guts looked towards the girl and saw the flying little boy, letting out a harsh _tsk_.

“So it was you, bug” he scoffed, eyes filled with spite. “Went poking your nose into things again…”. In reply, the little one merely stuck his tongue out and giggled.

“Hey, it’s what I like to do” he said, bobbing the sticks in his hands playfully. “It’s not like I asked you to beat up those guys”

“… A-Aahhh…”

“Don’t give me excuses, you knew what you were doing”

“… Aaahhh…!”

“Heheh… Yeah, I guess I DID use you there. Who knew that big thing was gonna… Eh?

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!”

The girl screamed in panic, squirming as much as she could with her hands still tied at the sight of the little flying boy. Said boy flinched from being screamed at from so close, the burdock balancing atop his head flying into the air. Both Guts and the Lord of Flames reached for their weapons seeing the girl scream, but lowered their guards when they same no immediate danger.

“Wha… H-Hey, it’s fine, I’m not the bad guy here” said the little one sheepishly, small sweat drops running down his forehead. “We just saved you, didn’t we—".

The burdock chose that moment to fall back down, landing upon the little one’s head and sticking to his scalp. A moment passed, before the little one fell to the ground, a small droplet of blood running down between his eyes and eyes looking around unfocused as he begins to pull the needles from his head. “Hohhhh…”

The girl, however, pays his antics no mind as she looks down fearfully at the diminutive figure, cold sweat drenching her clothes as she takes a step back. “A-An elf… From… From Misty Valley…”.

“Misty Valley…?”

And as the little elf took into the air once more and looked worryingly at the still very much frightened girl, Guts turned to the large knight standing just beside him, looking up at the featureless burning helmet. “You said something about having business with me. Feel like explaining yourself now?”.

The Lord of Flame looked the swordsman top to bottom, taking in his heavily armed appearance, his battle-worn state and the exhaustion clearly visible on his eyes. They also saw the uniquely shaped brand upon the nape of his neck, feeling the sheer malice and the pull of darkness emanating from it. In the face of it, the First Flame roared in defiance, and in the recesses of their mind, the Lord heard the cries of warning and anger from those that had linked the Flame before, all of them clamoring death and destruction for those that had forged such a malignant symbol.

Finally, the Lord spoke once more, the third time so far they had called upon a voice they before had no need for in their old duties. “Branded swordsman… I was told by an errant knight to seek you out, so as to find my own purpose”. The burning knight raised their hand and allowed the lightning and flame to course through his fingers. “You are haunted by spirits of beyond. I offer you my assistance in your eternal struggle”.

And as Guts looked at the figure standing before him that had shown itself to wield power beyond what he had ever witnessed before, he could only focus on the still warm sensation of the brand upon his neck…

And the seeming image of the sun burning behind this armored warrior.

What had the old man sent to him…


	3. Chapter 3

“We’re almost there. Just a little further”, called out he girl ahead as she pulled the black cloak around her body. Right behind, Guts and the Lord of Flame walked calmly, the latter’s long strides easily letting them keep pace.

Their current situation? Heading towards the girl’s, who called herself Jill, home village.

Guts had asked if her home was far, on the given reason that he wanted somewhere to get supplies to continue his journey, and information of “a personal level”. The Lord, however…

Truth be told, they did not have a set reason for this. Half of the voices inside them called to follow the branded swordsman, while the other half cried to simply search for the ones that had marked him and show these dark angels forgiveness by flame. Both options held merit, after all.

And yet…

The Lord knew that the latter option was unfeasible. The Flame, bright as it burned within him, was still drained from its centuries of maintaining the Age of Fire. What had changed was simply the size of its kiln. If they overused the Flame too much, then they risked extinguishing it as it did before on their original home, and their second chance would be wasted. No, what the primordial fire needed… Was fuel.

They would worry about such a thing later on.

Instead, they remained on their first option: offer their services to the Black Swordsman and follow him in his quest of revenge.

Of course, convincing the man to allow such had been another trial in itself. It seemed that the years bathed in darkness had not been kind to his sense of trust. Even if his brand, that apparently could sense evil and that which was born of it, showed him that the Lord was not an “Apostle” or related, the man known as Guts still seemed to hold distrust and animosity toward him. Puck had tried to speak something about “a sour lemon with a sweet inside” or whatever metaphor it seemed to come up with in the spot, but was promptly silenced when the swordsman stuffed the elf into his pouch. Nevertheless, he had agreed to allow the gestalt to follow him, provided they “did not get in the way” and “minded their own business”. The Lord had a feeling that his acceptance may have been due to mentioning it had been the so-called Skull Knight that had guided them to the swordsman.

He did ask them about the lightning they had called down, and the Lord replied truthfully that it had been a specific type of magic called miracle. Guts did scoff at the name, but seemed not to question its veracity, perhaps due to his way of life and contact with the supernatural. And all throughout, the elf stared at them with a mix of wonder and apprehension, as if it could sense something inside them.

The girl, Jill, seemed to have a thousand questions to direct at the two figures, but kept them to herself as she lead the swordsman and knight back her home, tugging the cloak offered by Guts to maintain her modesty. The three travelers climbed over a hill before Jill scanned the horizon and pointed to a town far off in the distance. “There it is. That’s my home village”.

The knight and the swordsman followed her finger and saw not too far away a small village, built upon a stone foundation, standing tall atop a hill. A grandiose position… Yet even from this far, the Lord of Flame could see that the times had not been kind to it. It certainly seemed poorly cared for, something that Guts was quick to note. “Pretty run down…” said the swordsman before turning to the burning knight behind him. “The townsfolk might not be too welcoming of ya, all things considered”.

“It matters not” replied the gestalt. “Your wish is only to return the girl and gather supplies, correct? Then we will spend no more time than necessary”.

At that response, the swordsman could only give a short grunt before turning to follow the girl down the road to the village.

Not long after, the three paced slowly through the streets of cobbled stones of the village, and the Lord saw that Guts’ assessment had been quite correct. Worn stone walls and pavement, broken windows and doors, dead trees dried by the sun and trash piling on the ground all over. The fountain in the town square did not run, with only filth-laden water inside it, and from cracks in the windows, they could see the inhabitants, watching in crazed fear the two figures walk amidst the empty streets.

Jill went from building to building, spying into them through every hole she could find, but it seemed none of the villagers cared to risk meeting these strangers. The girl leaned forward to stare at yet another house, when a shout sounded from behind her.

“JILL!”

The girl turned immediately to whoever called out her name, and her eyes widened as she saw, standing in the only open door of the village, an older woman wearing a gown and dress with tears in her eyes.

It was her mother.

“Jill… You…” she cried low, before rushing to meet her daughter, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her closer, and her words became far louder. “Where have you been all night, girl?! At a time like this… Do you know how worried I was?!”

“Mom, it’s all right! J-Just, shh!” replied Jill exasperated, holding a finger close to her mouth as he looked at her mother nervously.

“Whaaat? Jill?” slurred a third voice from behind them, the girl and her mother turning towards it. From the same doorway that had come the mother now stood three men. Two of them were taller, wearing simplistic clothes and with more well-kept appearances. Ahead of them was a far shorter man, wearing a loose helmet in his head, with a cane in one hand and a jar on his other, staring tiredly at Jill.

All throughout this, Guts watched impassively the now tense reunion, his expression completely unreadable to any. The Lord, however, began pacing closer to the gathered group, the large knight making nary a sound as they approached stealthily.

“Huh… Jill” continued the man as he took a swig from his jar. “Runnin’ out like that all’va sudden… Where the hell you been wanderin’, ahhh?”

“D-Dear, please stop” pleaded the mother to the man, hands raised placidly. “She’s come back safe, after all…”. Jill, however, took a step forward, her own hands tightened into fists.

“S… So what? You look like a fool, still wearing that thing”

“Say wha?! You shtupid runt!!” yelled the drunkard, waving his jar towards the men behind him. “Me and muh war buddiesh here… We wash jusht reminishin’ ‘bout the glory of the battlefield!”. At that, the two waved and smiled at the girl, who’s only response was to look down in nervousness. Taking another swig of his alcohol, the man turned to enter the house again. “That bein’ shaid… Go buy shome booze”.

“You’re going to keep drinking?!” Jill cried out in a mix of anger and incredulity. “Enough already!! Day after day, you babble about some old battle you lost!! Think of your family for once…?!”

Her tirade came to an end when the man spun on his feet and slammed his cane onto her arm, drawing a cry of pain from the girl as she dropped onto the ground.

“J-Jill!”

“Lost battle… ? Old babbling…?” muttered the man as he walked towards the fallen girl, tossing his jar onto the ground. “Don’t talk ta me like you know more than a kid!”. He turned his eyes up wistfully, small tears running down his eyes. ^We fought our hearts out so our wives and children could live in safety… I served my country, crawling around under cannonballs… My leg got bum…”. He looked down again to the girl, but his face hardened when he saw the scathing glare Jill had aimed at him. “What? What’s that look…?”

“Jill, please, apologize to your father!” plead her mother as she tried to pull her daughter closer, but instead found herself smacked away by the man’s cane.

And all throughout this, the Lord and Guts watched in silence. Yet still, the gestalt felt something stir inside their soul. But it did not come from the cries of the burned ones, nor did it come from the godly flame that granted them life. Those were silent, uncaring of an event mundane as this when compared with all the ruin and darkness they had witnessed.

So indeed, what… What was this feeling? It felt… Alien. New. Unknown.

Was it something from this world affecting them?

Their attention was taken back to the present by a cry of pain from the drunken man, who fumbled to try and pull a burdock from his face. A quick glance to the side showed to them Guts looking down in annoyed surprise at his pouch, where Puck hang halfway out, holding two sticks and snickering mischievously at his deed. The drunkard turned angrily around, until he faced Guts and the Lord, and paced closer to them. “W-Who’re you?! What the hell’re you doin’?!” he screamed at the swordsman, tossing the burdock away and waving his cane angrily in the air.

“Uh. No, it wasn’t me” mumbled Guts, pulling Puck out of his pouch and raising him in the air. “It was this…”

A second after the swordsman showed the elf, and all the villagers froze in fear, the Lord realized that this had not been a wise idea.

“An… AN ELF!!! HE’S GOT AN ELF WITH HIM!!!” screamed the drunk, stumbling back as he waved his cane desperately at the pixie. “Stay back, STAY BAAAAAAAAAACK!”

“Wow, what’s the deal with these people? What did _I_ do?” asked Puck, his arms drooping as he watched in confusion. Jill’s mother grabbed her arm and dragged her daughter back even as the girl begged her to listen, but the woman would pay her no heed, and soon their voices were drowned as, seemingly as one, the villagers hiding inside the houses rushed outside and surrounded Guts and the Lord, brandishing farming and work tools nervously at the swordsman and knight, even as the branded man looked nonchalantly at the gathered mob.

And from each heart, the Lord felt the crushing fear gripping their hearts, aimed solely at Puck. The gestalt moved their hand to rest on the hilt of the Firelink blade, feeling the flames inside the weapon kindle to life as they prepared themselves for any hostility.

“Does your kind go around eating crops or something?” he deadpanned at the elf, who’s only response was to cross his arms and shake his head frantically.

“You there…” called out an old man ahead of the group, pointing a wrinkled, bony finger at the pixie boy in Guts’ grasp. “You’re gonna hand that elf over to us, ya hear”

“Fine by me”

“NO IT ISN’T, TRAITOR!”

“But first I want to know why”

“Shut up!” screamed the drunkard from before. “Just give it here, or we’ll beat you dead!”

“Well, guess talking won’t get us nowhere…” muttered the swordsman as he eyed the crowd, but still he refrained from reaching to his weapon.

“Then don’t just stand there, ya oaf, skedaddle!” screamed Puck back, waving his arms angrily... That is, until Guts pinned him with a scathing glare. “… You know… Skedaddle…”.

Movement to the side drew the Lord’s attention, and the knight quickly raised their arm and slammed it against the oncoming garden hoe, breaking the fragile wooden hoe in two and stumbling the elderly woman wielding it back before she fell to the ground.

“Give… Give me back my grandchild…”

Unfortunately, that seemed to be the breaking point for the crowd. “T-They attacked that old woman!!” someone screamed from their midst, and so the crowd began closing in. Guts’ hand shot up and wrapped around Dragon Slayer’s hilt, ready to bring it down on any of the encroaching villagers. The Lord likewise gripped their own blade and withdrew it from its sheath, the spiral blade glowing bright orange as the embers within began to burn.

Guts, however, stopped when he saw Jill on the doorway of her home, struggling against the grasp of her mother and screaming at the crowd that approached her two saviors.

“Stop!!! Everybody stop it!!!”

“DEATH TO THE ELF!” “KILL IT!” “DON’T LET IT GET AWAY!”

“ _Dammit…!”_

Cursing aloud in his mind, Guts hoisted Dragon Slayer high in the air, drawing awed gasps from the villagers as they stopped in their tracks, before bringing the weapon down…

Onto a cart full of barrels beside him.

The massive blade reduced the cart to splinters and broke the barrels open, spilling their loads of water all over the crowd and forcing them to part to the sides. Behind Guts, the Lord foregone the use of their sword and instead drew onto their free hand the power of light, tossing in front of the other half of the mob several blinding orbs of flight. The villagers cursed and shouted as the shining spheres made them stumble, giving the perfect opening for the knight to join Guts in his escape. The two ran through the streets so fast that the gathered mob disappeared behind them, and soon found themselves at the wall lining the cliffs around the village. Without warning, Guts vaulted over the stone railing and landed on the rocky hills below, the Lord quickly following as they both pressed themselves close to the stone walls and heard the enraged mob pass above, shouting to “find them”.

It was only after the sound of running and stomping had passed that Guts allowed the breath he had been holding to come out as he pressed one hand against his forehead. “Dammit… Why’d it turn out like this?” groaned the swordsman. Beside him, the Lord of Flames kept watch on the bridge, before turning back to face the swordsman.

“Elf” they called, and indeed the blue-haired pixie appeared from Guts’ pouch, looking at the gestalt curiously. “Has your kind ever caused devastation to humans? Or anything that caused this much fear?”

“Of course not!” shouted back Puck as he waved his arms frantically in the air. “The only thing we are is playful by nature! Sure, a prank or two here, but we have no reason to hate humans!”

“They looked damned sure of wanting to kill you” spoke up Guts as he pulled the little one from his pouch. “And since when did that become your nest?”

“Hey, don’t sweat the details! Just think of me as a lucky charm! Means you’re lucky!”

“What’s lucky about you? More like you’ve made ours hit rock bottom.”

“Why you…! I’ll curse you!”

“Umm… Excuse me, mister swordsman? Mister knight?”

The three runaways quickly looked up, and saw above them Jill, still draped in Guts’ cloak and with nascent bruises on her face.

“I’m sorry… If I’d warned you ahead of time, this wouldn’t—”

“No kidding” interrupted Guts, a wry grin in his face. “Thanks to that, I missed out on info”.

“Don’t mind him, Jill, he’s just grouchy” spoke up the elf, even as he felt Guts’ grip on him tighten around him. “I’m Puck! Are you alright?”. Hearing the cheerfulness in the little pixie’s voice, Jill couldn’t help but smile, her hand reaching up to rub the bruise on her cheek tenderly.

“… Sure. I’m fine” she replied, and in return received a warm smile from the elf. The girl then pointed off in the distance, and the three travelers saw a windmill not too far. “You can hide in that windmill shed. It’s broken down so no one uses it”.

“I’ll bring food once night falls. Then I’ll tell you everything I know”

“Hey… Jill, was it?” asked Guts, this time with a far more serious expression. “If you’re gonna do that, then come in the morning. Do _not_ get close to that windmill during the night, no matter what”. When the girl’s expression became one of confusion, all the swordsman did was turn away from her and walk towards the windmill, waving one hand over his shoulder. “I doubt you want a repeat of last night…”

The Lord of Flame watched Guts walking away, and turned once more to face the young girl still up on the walls, before moving to follow the swordsman to their resting place for the night.

And all throughout, that alien feeling still remained in their soul…

**-O-**

The sun was already setting upon the horizon when the two warriors finally finished settling themselves inside the windmill. Just as Jill had said, the place was completely abandoned, with dust accumulated in vast amounts and devoid of any objects or furniture. Guts threw his bag onto the floor and began looking all over the ground level, pressing his hand against one of the wooden beams, the action drawing a low creaking sound from the aged wood. “It might not hold up… But I suppose we ain’t got much of a choice”

“Agreed” replied the Lord of Flame as they drew the Firelink Sword and stabbed it onto the ground. As soon as they let go, the blade began burning once more, and the gestalt sat in front of the Bonfire as they had done so many times before. “The specters of darkness will care not for where we rest, so as long as they can try to take what they wish from us”.

Guts turned towards the burning knight, and let out a mirthless chuckle as he moved to sit beside the fire as well. “Heh… Take from _us_? What have they got to get from you?”

“This flame within me. It is harmful to them, and they know it. But the power it holds and the salvation it could promise are too tempting a lure for spirits that know nothing but suffering”.

“So I’m not the only one who’ll be drawing the freaks now…? Tch… Well, at least the nights will be interesting” scoffed the branded warrior as he pulled Dragon Slayer from his back and rested it on the ground. “And that magic of yours?”

“Miracles of lightning would give away our position, and pyromancies would only serve to set this building ablaze” spoke the Lord as they drew the Frayed Blade from their waist and propped it against their shoulder. “Crystal sorceries would be a possibility, but they would also serve to draw more attention, of both spirits and the villagers. There is not much use for them”

“Figures…”

“… But there _is_ something I can offer still”

The Lord motioned towards Guts’ blade, and though the swordsman seemed skeptical, he relented and offered the massive blade to the knight. The gestalt raised their hand and hovered it over the slab of iron as he called forth the powers of the faithful ones that resided within the First Flame, drawing from their ghosts the knowledge of miracles they had crafted and wielded so long ago. White light seeped from their palm and onto the Dragon Slayer, bathing its entirety in a sparkling glow that illuminated their surroundings a fraction more than the Bonfire already did. Guts watched in quiet surprise, and after a few moments, the Lord of Flame withdrew their hand as the glow faded from it, but the light upon Dragon Slayer remained. The swordsman withdrew his weapon back closer to his body and examined it closely. He could not see any more physical differences to his blade other than the strange light itself, though he did note that having the weapon in hand seemed to give him a… Soothing feeling. Like his fatigue and stress were slowly seeping away, pushed out of his body by an invisible force.

A blue light drew his attention from his weapon to the knight’s own, and he watched them perform the same feat on their sword, a strange curved black blade that seemed like it would rot away at any moment, and covered it in a coating of crystal shards and blue light. The knight gave a cursory look over his weapon, before turning to stare through the small window off to the side, seeing the sun finally disappear over the horizon.

And with its departure…

… _crifice…_

_Sacri…ce…_

_… Sacrifice…_

They came.

Guts watched with a feral grin as the damned and the dead began seeping from the floor and walls as they always did, malformed bodies merging together to form even more grotesque phantoms, or simply piling close to one another to gaze at their promised prize. This time, however, their cries were not only aimed at the bearer of the brand…

_… Warm…_

_So warm…_

_Give it… To us..._

_Fire… Give us fire…_

“Heh… Guess they really do want you as bad as me, huh?” chuckled Guts as he stood up, hoisting Dragon Slayer into the air as he took his favored stance. Beside him, the Lord of Flame also rose, holding the Frayed Blade close to their waist as they readied themselves in one of thousand stances they had memory of.

“They are not the firsts… And they will not be the last”

“Well said”.

And so, their night began.

And above, in the rafters, Puck could do little more than watch in awe, seeing the man he had decided to tag along with, and the weird knight that gave him such a familiar feeling fight back against the darkness.

And wonder… What was this feeling from them?

Like he was not alone…

**-O-**

As quietly as she could, Jill sprinted towards the abandoned windmill as the first beams of sunlight begun to shine over the horizon, holding in her arms a basket of stolen food and the neatly folded cloak that the swordsman had lent to her the night they met. The windmill was still shrouded in darkness, but seemed strangely quiet, considering what the man had told her the day before. Perhaps this time it had been different…?

Once she reached the door, the girl gave it a trial tug and found it unlocked, so she slowly pried it open and peered inside. “Mister swordsman…” she called out, but her voice died out as her new surroundings became apparent.

The windmill, previously simply abandoned, was now little more than ruins. The support beams were smashed apart, with the ones still barely intact being the only things holding the upper floor intact. The stairs to said floor had been cut down completely, and the floor had entire gouges carved onto it.

And against the smashed apart wall, with scant sunlight beaming through the large holes that had not been there last night banishing away the few remaining spirits that she had seen before, laid the black-clad swordsman, cross-legged and asleep as he hugged his blade for support, his covered in faded cuts and bruises. He seemed utterly exhausted, expression placid as he breathed softly in his sleep, but mercifully still in a dark enough corner that the sunlight did not disturb his rest. Jill took a few careful steps closer, avoiding any loose rocks or planks in her path, and reached one hand out to call him out, but stopped when she heard a familiar voice speak softly to her, and raised her head to the rafters.

“Let him be for a while” whispered Puck from above, the little elf sitting on one of the broken beams that had come loose from the upper level’s floor with a wistful smile as he watched his “companion” rest. “He fell asleep just a minute ago”. Jill looked down at the sleeping warrior once more, gazing sadly at the injuries covering the man’s arms and face. She then set down the basket of food on the floor and, with utmost care and delicacy, unfolded the black cloak and wrapped it around his body before sitting next to him, watching this strange man from an even stranger world rest away his battles.

And off to the side, making nary a sound as they felt the embers of the First Flame mend the minor damage to their armor and the injuries to their body, the Lord of Flame watched the strangely solemn scene, the Bonfire burning ever on beside him…


	4. Chapter 4

Quite a few hours passed while the Black Swordsman slept, and not long after arriving so did the child fell asleep upon the man’s lap. But all throughout, the Lord of Flame remained awake, calmly watching the two from the other side of the destroyed room. Their body and armor had long been repaired by the First Flame, only slight bends and slashes from spirits and creatures that had snuck amidst the mayhem and landed a few hits. There was no exhaustion of fatigue to be found in them, a golem of metal, ash and flame, and so they had taken much of the brunt of battle from Guts.

But another question remained in their mind. Something that had, for the first time in millennia, surprised the souls of Gods and Humans: that not long after the struggle had begun, the sorcery they had imparted upon the swordsman’s blade was dispelled.

Arrogance it may sound, but the Lord knew how powerful they were. The First Flame, waned as it was, still held enough power within itself as a creator of worlds, therefore magic cast with it held just as much divinity. To dispel it so easily would require one to hold just as much, or even greater power than the Flame, something that to the Lord was inconceivable. A being that powerful would have easily been sensed, and its presence alone would have caused such distortions to the world around that even the village would have been affected.

But there was nothing. No trace of magic other than their own, no sign of outside interference or a malign presence that would be powerful enough for such an act.

All there had been present were the spirits… And Guts.

Had the Brand affected the sorcery somehow? Or was it something else? What would happen if the Lord tried to use miracles or pyromancies upon him? Would they be accepted, have their effect waned or denied… Or even perhaps…

A low creeping sound drew the attention of the gestalt, and they saw from one of the shadowed corners several small squid-like creatures hungrily eyeing the sleeping Guts. Feeling the darkness and greed emanating from them, the Lord raised their hand and, with a flick of a finger, launched small embers at them. The creatures screeched and flailed as the divine fire burned them, yet it was all low enough that they did not wake the sleeping human.

Lowering their hand once more, the Lord gazed into the outside, seeing the sun rising ever so slowly into the skies, before slowly getting up and walking out of the windmill.

Though the sun shone over the land and no shadows were present around them, the Lord still felt a cold breeze touch what little ashen flesh they had left, before quickly being denied by the embers burning within their body. Above them, the village stood in near silence, with only the noise of waking animals being carried through the air, though it was not long before the sound of opening windows and doors began echoing as well. The Lord kept their gaze up for a moment, then pulled their cloak around their body and hood over their helmet once more. With their form concealed once more, the gestalt raised their hand and readied a sorcery upon it, faint white motes slipping through their fingers as the magical energy built in their grasp. And with a quick motion, the Lord of Flames disappeared into thin air under the Hidden Body spell, their massive frame fading away from sight and leaving only empty air.

Just as the Lord of Flames left towards the windmill, a groan echoed from inside the ruined building as Guts awoke. The swordsman’s eyes blinked in the diminishing darkness that allowed him sleep, only to see that the knight that had joined him was not there. A low sigh drew his attention down, and the branded warrior stared in confusion at the girl laying asleep upon his lap.

This… Was not how he expected his first decent rest to end.

**-O-**

Crude as it may have been, the swordsman assessment of the village was indeed correct: it had seen better days. As they traversed the streets once more, this time under the cloak of invisibility granted by sorcery, the Lord watched as the people dragged themselves from one place to the other, their movements an almost undead gait with heads lowered in exhaustion and fear. The debris and rubble from their escape had remained where it laid, the wet rock marking where Guts had smashed apart the barrels as a distraction. The Lord of Flame remained still gazing at the spot when suddenly something stumbled upon their feet and fell to the ground. Quickly, the gestalt pulled themselves away from the middle of the street and laid their back flat against the wall, turning to face the fallen form. To their surprise, they saw the elderly woman that had tried to attack them the day prior, who slowly rose from the ground with a small strained grunt. As she did, the Lord took note of something being held in a tight grasp upon her hands, which they realized was a small wooden horse, not unlike one a child would play with. The woman stared at the horse for quite some time, a few tears running down her face before she resumed walking, her direction or goal unknown.

_Give… Give me back my grandchild…_

Her words echoed on the gestalt’s mind, and once more that curious feeling wormed its way into their spirit. What was it? It felt… Like a dozen ice crystals, hammering away at the burning flames inside them. It was not painful, nor was it threatening. Yet… It brought bother to the burning knight.

What… Was this?

…

That feeling quickly disappeared, however, and was replaced instead with cries of warning from the souls contained in them.

Something approached. Magical in nature, plentiful in numbers.

And teeming with malice.

The Lord gazed to the sky and immediately saw the source of the warnings. Motes of light, almost uncountable, were flying at incredible speeds towards the village, forming a long brilliant serpent that snaked its way forward. Whatever was dwelling within it, it carried darkness and a wish for destruction. And yet still, it felt… Pure, in a way. Almost childish.

The villagers were quick to notice the phenomena too as the animals began growing restless, with their expressions and hearts growing fearful as they stared wide-eyed at the approaching lights.

“T-The… THE ELVES! THE ELVES ARE COMING!!!” screamed a man from somewhere, and with that chaos erupted, with panicked villagers running to their homes and slamming shut doors and windows as the lights began encircling the village, hovering above it and dancing menacingly to and fro. And all throughout, the First Flame roared louder and louder, and so did the chants of the souls within it, clamoring for the Lord of Flame to end these atrocities that surrounded them.

An order they most certainly agree with.

The gestalt dispelled the sorcery hiding their body and quickly leapt into the roof of the house behind them, easily clearing the height and landing impeccably atop the building. The villagers, hiding inside their houses for whatever protection it would grant, watched stupefied as the mysterious cloaked figure from the day before seemed to appear out of nowhere. Their shock only grew further when the figure cast away its cloak, revealing beneath it a burning knight with molten armor and several massive weapons.

“W-What is that?”

“Some kind of d-demon?”

“Wasn’t he… With the man from yesterday, and the elf?”

Their words were heard by the Lord’s acute hearing, but they chose to ignore it all as instead, they drew their coiled blade from its sheath, feeling the fire within it burn once more. And this time, it knew it would be used properly.

“Creatures of chaos, you flock to make these mortals as your plaything… Today, you face one not below, but above you” they spoke, turning the spiral blade in their grasp until it pointed downwards. “Know despair. And atone for your crimes against those that cannot fight by the fire of life”. At these words, fire erupted from their sword and spiraled around the gestalt’s arm, yet they were not harmed. Above, the lights continued to dance without worry, instead simply drawing closer to the burning knight, until he could discern the forms hidden by the lights: child-like bodies, two antennas, a collar of fur and insect-like wings. Not unlike the little one, Puck.

Indeed, not unlike an elf.

And yet still, something was inherently… Wrong with them. Something… Familiar?

“Heheh… Who’s this?”

“Looks like a grown-up.”

“Yeah. But he’s wrong.”

“Yeah. He’s not alive.”

“Then not a grown-up? Then maybe he’ll play!”

“Yeah! Play with us, mister!”

“Let’s play, let’s play!”

Their voices, just as whimsical and child-like as Puck’s had been, rang out around the Lord of Flame as they drew closer, uncaring of the flames that surrounded the knight. The gestalt, in return, simply turned their head to and fro, staring at the diminutive beings through their helmet slit with inexistent eyes, and soon the chatter died down, replaced instead with a deathly silence.

“… You won’t play?”

“That’s boring”

“You’re boring”

“So b **oring** ”

“ **Booooooring** ”

And so their voices rang one more, but this time far more distorted. The lights drew closer still, only now their bodies began morphing and twisting, turning monstrous the once innocent-looking creatures.

Human bodies gave way to insect ones, with wasp-like legs and arms erupting along their bodies. Their eyes stretched to the back of their heads, and their hair gave way to short fur. Striped abdomens grew from the base of their spines, with sharp stingers on their tip, and even claws replaced their hands.

“ **He really is a grown-up.** ”

“ **He won’t play. That’s boring.** ”

“ **We’ll make him play. We will.** ”

If they intended to intimidate, the Lord did not know. But their words did draw one reaction from the burning knight. One that all the souls inside them knew well, and directed at any enemies of the flame.

Fury.

“You will force me unto nothing” they spoke, as the flames surrounding their arm began spiraling around their entire body. “ **But I will force unto you penance** ”. With a manic laugh, the creatures flew forward with their stingers aimed forward, and in return, the Lord swung their blade in an arc around themselves. As they slashed, the flames surrounding them coalesced onto the sword and shot outwards and sent speeding a wall of fire at the creatures. Already, committed to their assault, they did not attempt to evade.

Their screams horrified even the villagers.

Those elves, whenever they did attacked villages, always laughed and cried out joyful words. Dead animals, butchered adults, disappeared children… Nothing seemed to faze the pixies and their eternal glee.

Yet the moment the fires of the First Flame touched their bodies, they felt pain unimaginable, boring into body, mind and soul and fueling itself through them. Blood boiled and flesh turned to ashes, their bodies contorting into themselves as they came undone bit by bit. Some crashed down below, rolling around in the ground before coming undone by the fire, while others threw themselves away and towards the walls, their ashes raining down on the buildings as they passed them.

And all throughout, the villagers merely gaped and watched, their eyes glued to the fiery knight standing amidst the storm of flames, as the diminutive devils that had plagued them so be so easily destroyed.

“W-W-Witchcraft…”

“H-He’s a wizard…”

“G-God… God, p-please help us…”

“What if he c-comes after us n-now?”

“What about the other one? What if he’s a wizard too?”

“He had an elf with him… M-Maybe…”

The Lord simply watched, feeling their diminutive souls be dragged into the First Flame to add into the divine furnace, small embers as they were. They would make no difference in the lifespan of the fire, but at the very least they would be given the chance to be purged of their sins. But the gestalt’s attention was quickly taken to the rest of the swarm, still grand in numbers and now backing away from them. They had returned to their more human shapes, which only served to show the fear in their faces, bodies turned and ready to run away. The knight turned their helmet to the survivors and raised the Firelink blade once more.

“You spoke of playing games. Of toying with me” they rumbled, the fires once more flaring around their body. “Tell me then… Of the feeling of being toyed with yourselves”.

Before either the creatures or the knight could do any more, a hail of arrows flew from below and tore a bloody swathe through the surviving group, piercing through some and even dismembering others, blood and limbs raining down onto the village below and staining the streets and houses. As the elves weaved and dodged, the Lord looked below them and saw a familiar figure standing on the streets.

Draped once more in his black cloak, with a crossbow mounted on his left arm that he was in the process of reloading, Guts glared at the elves with barely-contained bloodlust in his remaining eye, seemingly uncaring of the Lord of Flame above him.

And around Guts, unnoticed to all but the bearer of the flame, a creeping black shadow seeped from around him, seeming to try and consume the very air around itself.

Almost like… The Abyss.

The thoughts of the Lord of Flame were dragged back to the elves when they sped away from both warriors and flew towards further back in the village, to the small farming area where the crops and animals were kept. Both the Lord and Guts quickly took off after them, a black-clad specter and a fire-clad golem speeding through the streets. In moments, both parties had reached the crops, and the elves were quick to hover above and out of melee range, spreading themselves out enough to avoid any arrows. And the Lord could not wield any magic without risk of destroying the crops around them, even if they could hear cries to do so within their mind.

“Nowhere to run anymore, you vermin” growled Guts as he readied a fresh magazine into his crossbow. “You ready to lay down and die?”. And yet rather than cower in fear as before, the elves began smiling. One by one, their grins returned as they began fluttering around one another, giggling and laughing at the two warriors that they had seemingly feared until now. From the corner of their vision, the Lord saw the girl Jill peek around the corner of a building, with Puck floating not too far from her just ahead, and yet the elves did not react to the newcomers, keeping their focus solely on the knight and swordsman. “What’s so damn funny, you pests?”

“Heheh…”

“Now you’ll see, now you’ll see!”

“Now you’ll learn!”

“She’s here, she’s here!”

“SHUT YOUR MOUTHS!” roared the branded swordsman, raising his crossbow with firing crank grasped…

“Now that’s not very nice~”

Only to quickly whirl around alongside the Lord of Flame as a new voice joined the chorus, this one older sounding than the little ones around. And indeed, higher above, surrounded by even more of the small pixies, was a new figure. One that made Guts’ brand bleed even further, and the First Flame to flare in anger.

Her entire body was blue, in varying shades, and completely uncovered. Massive moth wings and antenna sprouting from her head, with a proboscis square in the middle of her forehead, and in-between two large glass-like eyes. Fur covering her upper arms and two smaller insect legs protruding from her back.

It was no lie that the being above them held an unnatural air of grace and mystique, perhaps even seeming innocence. Yet just as much, the Lord of Flame could feel the unnatural energies of chaos radiating from the petite body of a mutated young girl, and that was enough for them to know that whoever she was, she was related to the dark beings ruling over this world’s fate.

“You two really are pretty strong, you know!” she cooed, placing one finger over her cheek. “Even you, mister swordsman! You’re human, but you look so strong! And your big friend did all that magic!”.

“So, you’re the queen bee” mused Guts, his rage seeming to subside just enough to allow his rationale to return.

“I’m no bee! I’m an elf! An elf queen!~”.

With blinding speed, Guts drew two throwing knives from his bandolier and launched them at the large elf. The girl, in return merely allowed her smile to grow an inch wider, before allowing her proboscis to swing even faster, swatting aside both knifes with contemptuous ease.

“Playing elf, maybe…” he finished, stashing away his crossbow and resting his grip on Dragon Slayer’s hilt. “You’re just insect scum”

“That was meeeeaaaaan!” whined the girl, crossing her arms in annoyance. “Did you all hear that? What should I do with him for that?”. In return, the elves all around began chanting answers in a cacophony of small voices, cheerful calls to take them both and punish for lying.

“Ready yourself, swordsman” warned the Lord, shifting their grip on the Firelink Sword and adjusting their stance. “She is far more dangerous”. And seemingly in response, the girl drew herself back and shot down at both warriors, who quickly readied themselves to counter. The moment the blue blur was about to crash onto them, both Guts and the Lord lashed out with their weapons, a massive pillar of iron and a long spiral of flame slicing through the air in an attempt to strike down the self-proclaimed elf.

To the surprise of both, however, their weapons swung wide, the girl weaving beneath both their blades and passing right by their attempted attacks. She quickly rose into the air once more, turning to face the knight and swordsman with a satisfied smile as her proboscis retracted back close to her head.

And its tip was now painted red and grey.

A second later, blood spurted out from a hole that bored cleanly through Guts’ left bicep, and a long slash opened on the Lord’s thigh, launching ash and ember into the air for a moment before it closed up. Guts looked at his injury with a furious and annoyed growl, just as Puck flew up close to his face, a panicked look in his face. “Guts! Wait, time out!”

“Yahoo, yahoo! I gotcha, yes I did!~” cheered the large elf, flying in loops and circles above them as her “subjects” joined in a chorus of laughs and cheers of their own. This only seemed to anger Guts further, who’s grip on Dragon Slayer grew tighter still.

“Damn bitch…”

“Oi, I said time out! Quit fighting them!” cried out Puck once more, hovering just a few inches away from the black swordsman.

“SHUT UP!” he shouted in return. “I can hardly tell ya apart as is! Get out of the way or I’ll swat you too!”. Yet surprisingly, the elf instead flew up to Guts’ head and grasped his ear tightly.

“LISTEN!!” screamed the little pixie in a surprising show of anger, before his expression morphed into one of intense sadness. “They… They’re definitely not elves. Those things, they’re… They’re children”.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl to the Lord of Flame as those words reached them as well, and his gaze turned to the cheerful false elves frolicking above them all. So that was the reason behind their innocence… It was not seeming or simulated. It was innocence born of youth.

For a moment, the gestalt witnessed glimpsed the phantoms of humans being dragged into an eternal spiral of suffering, a young girl being changed by the tides that ruled the order of the world and beyond…

And above all this, a shadow of four beings, standing upon the fingers of a gigantic hand reaching into the skies, with a faint wisp standing upon the index finger.

Once more… Once more, they were responsible for all this…

And somewhere within the roaring of the First Flame, an old, hoarse voice rose above the cacophony of cries. One that, diminished as it was, still thrummed with the power only one who had witnessed the beginning of an age could hold.

_They doubted me before. Called my actions brutal and destructive. But in the end, humanity proves its darkness once more. Would you disagree, Thrall of the Lords’ Will?_

And just as fast as it had come, the visions vanished and time returned to its normal flow, just as the gestalt glimpsed the flying girl turn her head in surprise once more towards Guts. Or more specifically, at Puck.

“HEYYYYYYYYYY! Don’t go talking with humans!” shouted the self-proclaimed elf queen, looking down in disappointment at the blue-haired elf. “That’s what we call Peekaf!”. In response, the pixie simply stared in confusion and scratched his head.

“… Eh? Peeka… What?”

“Peekaf gets punished just like humans!” she finished, diving once more towards Guts. Puck sputtered and waved his arms in panic as he watched the girl speed towards him, yet all Guts did was throw Dragon Slayer over his shoulder and ready himself for the attack. Yet just as he adjusted his footing to strike, all strength seemed to leave his limbs, and the swordsman crashed onto the ground on his knees as the moth girl came closer and closer.

“What the…?!”

“Guts!!”

Acting quickly, the Lord threw themselves between the two, grasping the hilt of their blade with both hands as they readied to morph its shape, when suddenly a small form copied their intentions and threw themselves between the burning knight and the divebombing elf with her arms thrown wide.

“STOP IT, ROSINE! IT’S YOU, ISN’T IT?!” screamed Jill, staring unflinchingly at the approaching threat. And indeed, the large elf’s expressions changed from glee to surprise, the flying girl quickly flapping her wings to change her direction and forcing a blast of air against the gathered party before she spun and focused her gaze at the young girl that had cried out to her, even as the other children-turned-elves began flocking around her.

“… Jill…?”

“Rosine…!”

Both girls kept their eyes locked at one another, one in curiosity and another in nervousness, until finally the elf queen waved her arm and took off into the skies, followed closely by all the other elves, leaving behind a true elf, a furious swordsman, a young girl and a burning golem.

The last of which, found themselves hearing the echoed words of the same old, hoarse voice that had spoken after so many millennia, the rumbling of thunder and crackling of lightning heard somewhere in the distance…


	5. Chapter 5

It was the sound of something heavy crashing onto the ground that drew the Lord of Cinders from their dream-like state. When the gestalt turned in the direction of the sound, they were greeted with the sight of Guts laying sprawled on the ground, his body twitching and trembling, sweat pouring in droves as Puck and Jill ran to his side.

“G-Guts!”

“Mister swordsman?!”

“Hrrg… It’s her dust” growled the swordsman through gritted teeth. “It’s poisonous. I got careless… Dammit!!”. The man tried to force himself up, but his arms began buckling under the weight of his weapon and gear. Jill quickly ran to his aid and threw his right arm over her shoulder, her legs trembling under the weight, but the girl held as best as she could.

The Lord watched the two humans, their mind a swirl of conflicting thoughts and intertwined memories, when suddenly it all changed to warnings of approaching humans. They turned back towards the village, and were greeted by the sight of its inhabitants, once more gathered into a mob.

Once more carrying improvised weapons.

“Hoo boy, we’re in for it now…” groaned Puck as he dove into one of Guts’ pouch, his blue tuft of hair poking out as he peeked out of it. The swordsman said nothing, settling instead in giving a positively murderous glare towards the villagers and balling his hand into a fist. “What we gonna do, Guts?”

“Y-You… You used w-witchcraft…” muttered fearfully an old man at the front, his pitchfork pointed forward in a vain attempt of menace. “You’re the same… As those elves… A demon…”

“I-It used fire… D-Did the devil give you these powers?” muttered another man, clutching his axe close to his chest. “And you… You didn’t bleed”

“And that man with the huge sword… He’s the same as your ilk, ain’t he?”

“Demon! Be gone, demon!”

One by one, their voices rose, screaming prayers, insults and demands at the burning golem. The Lord did not react, however, simply watching as the villagers stepped forward. One woman in particular drew their attention however: the one they had realized as Jill’s mother.

“J-Jill!” she cried out, arms spread and with a panicked expression. “Hurry… Hurry and come here!”. The girl stared at her woman with a saddened look, her free hand curled close to her chest, when she felt a hand rest on her shoulder. Jill looked to the side and, to her surprise, saw Guts looking down with a stern, serious look, even as sweat continued to pour down his face. With a light shove, the swordsman pushed the girl towards her mother, pulling himself away from her support to stand tall once more. Jill gave the swordsman a concerned look, but seeing him nod served as the final nail to her decision. With a nervous nod of her own, she turned towards her mother and took one step forward…

“A… AAAAAAAHHHHHH! T-THE BODIES!!”

But stopped, when the frantic screams of a villager from the far back of the mob drew their attention. One by one the people turned towards where the screamer had pointed, and one by one they joined in the shock and horror. And as the people stepped back and formed a hole in their midst, Guts and the Lord saw what caused their shock.

Burned, pierced with arrows, mutilated, strewn limbs and flowing blood.

All from the body of very much human children.

The wails and cries of the villagers mixed into a cacophony most sorrowful, tears pouring from their eyes as mothers rushed to cradle what little remained of their gruesomely returned children. The men, gripping their tools tighter than before, turned towards the Lord and Guts with a furious glare in their eyes, hoisting their weapons into the air ready to attack.

“Alright… Change of plans”

And in a moment’s breath, Jill found herself pulled back once more, with Guts’ arm draped across her chest.

And a knife held close to her neck.

“How about you all step aside?”

The aura of anger vanished as quickly as it had appeared, the villagers staring fearfully at the black-clad figure as he held the girl firmly in place with the knife’s edge hovering dangerously close to her. The Lord had already readied their blade once more as they faced the uncertain crowd, smoke and cinders beginning to peel away from their body as heat began distorting the air. “Swordsman?” inquired the golem, their head turned slightly to the side.

“G-Guts! What the hell are you _doing_?!” hissed Puck as he flew up next to the man’s head. “We wanna make them hate us _less_ , not _more_!”. His words had no effect however, and Guts promptly ignored the elf to walk towards the crowd, pressing the dagger an inch closer to Jill’s neck. The Lord watched as the villagers parted to allow Guts passage, the swordsman giving a glance over his shoulder at the burning golem. With a knowing nod, the Lord followed after the man, keeping their sword at the ready as they walked past the humans. And though they could seem the nervous twitches and spasms of the villagers as they struggled not to attack Guts or the Lord, even if in the back of their minds, they knew it to be fruitless.

One such man did not heed the warnings, however. With a crazed look in his eyes, the old man reared his axe back and stepped forward, ready to bring the blade down on Guts’ head. Yet before it could find purchase, the axe was stopped when the Lord grasped the man’s wrist tightly. The heat emanating from the golem’s body ate through the old fabric in an instant, leaving the skin beneath exposed before it began to sizzle and bubble. The old man screamed in pain, letting go of the axe and recoiling back as smoke wafted from his burned wrist, those close by rushing to hold him back and keep him from falling to the ground. The rest backed away further, some even dropping their weapons out of shock, but thankfully no others were foolish enough to try.

And so it went, with Guts and the Lord of Flame walking out of the village. More than once, the gestalt saw the swordsman’s footing waver, though thankfully he did not collapse. Soon, the erstwhile group found itself far away from the village, close to where Jill had shown they had been getting close. As soon as they did, Guts unwrapped his arm from around her neck and sheathed his dagger. “This is far enough. You can go home now” said the human curtly.

Yet it seemed those were not the words Puck had been expecting to hear, if the way the little sprite flew up to Guts with an irate look in his face and waving arms were any indicator.

“Why you…! What do you mean “you can go home now”?! You put a knife to her throat and made her a hostage!” shouted the elf as he hovered inches away from Guts’ face. “Don’t you have any tact, you troglodyte—H-Hey!”

Yet it seemed Puck’s fury would be short-lived. Without a word, Guts grabbed the elf’s wings and tossed him off to the side and onto the grass, then turned away towards the forest. Just as he took a step forward, however, the swordsman turned his head ever-so-slightly towards Jill, his face still facing away.

“Sorry ‘bout all that”

And so he left, walking with a slight gait as he moved away from the girl.

And all Jill could do was watch. Watch, as he left as abruptly as he had arrived, off to kill…

… To kill Rosine.

“I know what you wish, child”

The girl turned to look at towering knight now stood beside her, the fire that had been present on their body now reduced to a faint ember. They were once more clad in their large tattered cloak, blade resting at their side yet still in their grasp.

“But you must not follow this man” continued the gestalt as they watched Puck fly up to Guts once more to continue to argue one-sidedly. “You will only find death in his wake, and darkness where he heads”

A pregnant pause settled between the two, until her voice finally found purchase on the words she wished to speak. “… That elf… The big one that fought you two…”

“She is your friend, is she not?”

To her credit, Jill kept her reaction to a minimum, merely balling up her hands into tight fists. She did not answer, but to the Lord it was more than enough. The golem of flame looked down at the human girl next to them, feeling the feeble cinder that was her soul.

It was so pathetically small. Less than that of a firefly. It would never burn, never light up… Why would she press on?

“She may have been one you’ve known before, but you know that is not so anymore. Darkness permeates her soul, and her mind is twisted into perversion. It would do you well to forget her”.

And with those parting words, the Lord resumed walking, leaving Jill to ponder their words…

It was not long ‘til the Lord managed to catch up to Guts. The trail of blood droplets made it even easier to find him. Soon, the gestalt black cloaked form of the swordsman, now swaying even more than before. And strangely, Puck seemed to be missing. “Where is the elf?”

“Don’t care… Don’t need no damn pet…” growled the man in return. His grip on his left arm was like a vice, but the blood trickled regardless. His face had grown paler, and his sway more pronounced. Whatever poison the false elf had at her disposal, it was bound to affect him for quite some time, unless measures were taken.

“You are injured. You require aid”

“I’m fine”

“Swordsman” they insisted, grasping the man’s arm tightly. Guts immediately reacted, turning around and lashing out with his arm, but hit nothing but air. Instead, he lost his footing and almost dropped onto the ground, but was kept upright by the Lord’s grip. “Determined as you may be, even you have limits”. The gestalt pulled Guts until he was upright, but was forced to let go when the man pulled his arm away. Steel helm and steely gaze faced one another, but the building sweat on the human’s face was enough to settle the argument. With an angry snarl, Guts turned away from away from the Lord and stared into the distance, before pointing to a mountain close to them.

“Night’s coming… We’ll camp… There”

“Very well”

**-O-**

As it turned out, “setting up camp” was merely light up a bonfire and allow Guts to do anything possible to relieve the poison’s effect. That included crudely bandaging the wound, puking in large amounts, replacing lost blood by drinking a snake’s, and munching a strange herb that apparently granted energy for some time.

But it still wasn’t enough.

The grip on his sword waned slightly, his eyes had heavy bags and his posture was lax.

He would not last the night… Unless…

The Lord walked over to where Guts was sat upon, and knelt down next to him. With one hand resting on the ground, and another held forward, the gestalt ignored the annoyed look the human gave them, instead focusing on drawing forth the healing light of the Flame forward. Motes of light began floating around the burning knight as a white circle formed under the sitting swordsman and white columns rose around the two.

The Lord clenched their fist, and cast forth the Caressing Tears Miracle.

Time slowed to a crawl.

As the miracle ushered to life, the Lord was dragged from being in front of Guts, to being surrounded by an oily, all-consuming darkness. Blobs of blood with distorted faces flowed all around, grinning and sneering at the golem of flame that had intruded upon this nothingness amidst darkness. A ground made of placid stone faces beneath their feet, with blood-caked rusted swords impaled throughout the landscape as crude gravestones. Shining down in a crude, perversive mockery of the celestial orb of flame that granted life, hovered a black orb surrounded in blood-red light.

And right there, standing in front of the Lord of Flame and covered in scars, blood and wounds, was a large black dog. Demonic-looking, with instead of eyes two jagged red lines, and a vulpine grin showing its long sharp fangs.

“ **Ah… It’s you again** ” it spoke, its long tongue slipping between its lips and dripping blood onto the ground. “ **You are the one trying to give him hope** ”

“You are the one forcing miracles to dispel… What are you?”

“ **Me? I’m him… I’m everything he wants to be. And everything he wants to achieve** ”

“No… You are an abomination. You fester in his soul, feeding from bloodshed and darkness”

“ **And am I so unlike you? Your existence is given by the suffering of so many… Oh, had he killed so many like you, he would have done as I said, and cast aside these weak, fragile things. We’d be closer to killing _him_** ”

“You speak of shared feeling… But it is only your bloodlust and rage that drive you”

“ **And mine are his… It matters not what you do or say… If you slay me, all you do will be ending his soul** ”. The creature sneered, scratching its head with one paw before laying down onto the ground. “ **But… Yes, it would be useful… Your magic, your miracles, your… Fire. It will give him hope. And the more hope he has… The greater his fall to me will be** ”

“He will _not_ fall to you”

At that, the creature chuckled. “ **You overestimate his spirit. After all… I am already here** ”

And with that, the darkness vanished. The Lord found themselves once more kneeling upon the rocky ground, the last dredges of Caressing Tears’ light vanishing into the air. In that brief exchange, the sun had already set, leaving their surroundings covered in darkness. Beside the golem, the small bonfire crackled just as vividly as when it had been lit.

But instead of being sat against the rock side, Guts was hunched over on the ground, vomiting once more. But this time, the green bile was mixed with both blood and a strange, yellow liquid.

So the abomination had allowed the miracle to take effect… Yet it seemed the reaction had been far more visceral than expected.

With one last heave, the swordsman seemed to have emptied whatever toxin had entered his body, and instead began gasping for oxygen as the sweat dripped from his head. The man turned his head and gave the Lord a murderous glare, his hands crunching the loose pebbles underneath them. “You… What did you… do?”

“I drained the poison from your body, swordsman” answered the gestalt, already reaching for their blade for safety. “The miracle worked, though not in ways I’ve witnessed so far. But I guarantee your body is cleansed”.

The answer did not seem to assuage his fury much, but at least enough to keep conflict at bay. With one final growl, Guts pushed himself up from the ground and took hold of Dragon Slayer for leverage. After a few more breaths, the man rose and threw himself back where he had been sitting, his blade resting against his shoulder. The Lord gave him one more moment of regard before withdrawing their own sword and turning to face the open area that surrounded them.

“Rest for now, swordsman. You will need your strength in the coming battle. I will take up watch for tonight” spoke the gestalt as their blade ignited its dormant flame once more. Its warmth brought a sense of familiar comfort to the golem, now that it was allowed to burn openly rather than restricted for the sake of humans.

“The hell I will” growled back the swordsman. “I can keep it up”

“Swordsman, you require rest. It will do you no—”

_…Warmth…_

“Hm?”

“Tch… Too late for that, I guess”

It was the sudden moaning voices from the edges of the darkness that ended their arguing, and it was the same sound that put both on alert. Guts forced himself up, swinging Dragon Slayer around before grasping its handle tightly as he felt the blood trickle from the brand in his neck. The Lord, meanwhile, simply shifted one foot and readied their own stance as flames began licking over their limbs.

A moment passed… Two…

And their assailants stepped forth from the darkness.

Sprits of children made of flame, crying and stumbling forward as they mumbled for their parents or out of fear, their last thoughts before death claimed them. Alongside them, marched forth another host.

Clad in rusted armor, wielding decrepit weapons and trudging forward like corpses. Their skin red and shriveled, mouths agape and eyes glowering menacingly in the darkness gave the encroaching mob a fittingly haunting look.

Yet their appearance was not what surprised the Lord. No… It was the fact they were here at all.

**Those Who are Beneath Even the Dead**

**THE HOLLOWED**

**-O-**

The howl of a wolf in the distance not so much frightened as it did simply draw her attention, but Jill reacted fast enough that it made Puck fly from her head and tumble through the air in surprise. The elf quickly recovered, however, and flew up to sit on her shoulder.

“Don’t sweat it! Animals don’t come close if you’re with an elf” said the little one cheerfully as he swung his legs back and forth. The girl looked at the blue-haired pixie in uncertainty, but quickly began walking once more in the direction Puck had given her.

Silence settled upon them once more, but once more Puck broke it when he turned to face the girl that had saved him after Guts had so cruelly tossed him aside. “Hey. Is this okay though, Jill?”

“Hm?”

“You know… If you have me around, it could still be pretty dangerous” said the pixie softly, waving at their surroundings. “Besides, they’re not real elves. They’re dangerous. Plus, that queen’s not gonna just turn human if you show up”. The little one leaned back and looked at the starry sky above them with an expression of worry, before letting out a sigh. “… You might regret this”

Jill did not stop walking, but her expression became crestfallen as she looked at the elf sitting on her shoulder. Once more that long moment of pause came between the two, and even the beasts of the mountain seemed to quiet.

“… I’m sure… I would regret it…”

“Eh?”

“… Whether I followed after them… Or gone back to the village” she continued as she stepped over a boulder in her path as Puck watched her with a quizzical look. “Either way, probably. But…”

“… But?”

Jill looked up at the sky as well, seeing all the twinkling stars shining so brightly up above, so far away from all the horrible, dirty things down on the earth. And yet still, something stirred inside her heart. And it felt… Pleasant. “But right now… I’ve already come this far”

Puck stared at the girl for a moment more, a smile slowly stretching across his face as he felt the budding joy inside her heart. Suddenly, a faint orange glow in the corner of his vision drew the elf’s attention, and he was quick to point the girl towards it.

“Jill, look! I think they’re there!” shouted the elf as he pointed off into the distance. Following his outstretched digit, she saw not much farther away a swirling orange light near the mountain, and it seemed to dance and sway without any wind to guide it. With budding curiosity, Jill ran towards the dancing light, with Puck holding on tightly to her dress to avoid being flung off yet again. In mere moments they had gotten close enough to the mysterious light to see it for what it truly was: a whirlwind of flame, carnage, and fury.

Walls of flame swirled in graceful arcs, rending in their path small children made of fire that wailed as they threw themselves towards the center of the maelstrom. Shriveled corpses swung their weapons in slow, wide arcs, sometimes even striking their fellow cadavers. Yet it deterred them not, as the corpses huddled even closer and trudged towards the two figures standing at the center of the maelstrom of death.

The Lord of Flames lived up to their name as they weaved the fire that erupted from their body around themselves, shaping it into whips, balls and columns that engulfed anything in their path. Corpses had their flesh incinerated and armor and weapons molten into puddles as they tried to force their way through the cataclysmic flame, while the child spirits disappeared all together inside the much stronger fire amidst screams and cries. The gestalt’s greatsword glowered fiercely as it lashed out, while on its off-hand the golden sword spear flashed with lightning, leaving golden trails as it danced through the air. There was an ethereal beauty to how the Lord fought, a supernatural grace… It was so contrasting to how Guts fought.

Beast. Monster. Feral. Wrathful.

The swordsman roared and snarled as he swung his massive blade, striking down anything that got caught in his path. Armor was smashed like cloth, flesh torn and blood sprayed onto the ground when any cadaver unlucky enough to cross its path was struck. The fire children jumped at him, but the blade split them apart just as easily, and with no hesitation whatsoever. So consumed by his rage was Guts that his eyes seemed to glow bright red, his teeth became fang-like and his cape seemed to sink into what few shadows surrounded him and the Lord.

A dichotomy of existences: the human, and the inhuman. And yet both seemed to blur one another.

And all Jill and Puck could do… Was watch. Watch as the carnage unfolded just in front of them. Without realizing, the two had paced closer and closer to the spiral of fire that the battle took place in with their eyes transfixed, unaware of their own surroundings.

And in that moment of inattention, Jill did not see the Hollow Soldier shambling towards her, its rust-eaten blade dragging softly along the ground. The corpse kicked forward a pebble, making it strike against the girl’s ankle and breaking away the hypnotic trance that had befallen her. She turned, and her eyes widened when they fell upon the decayed body gearing to strike her, arm raised and blade poised to split her head in two.

Time slowed to a crawl as the weapon came down, Puck shouting her name as Jill stared at her impending death…

The wind howled, and Jill’s vision was overtaken by a bright blue flash as she fell back with a yelp, a cold wave washing over her body. When finally the light died down and her eyes regained focus, Jill stared at the space the undead had occupied.

Rather than standing right in front of her, the corpse soldier was now embedded against a rock by a large, brilliant blue spear, azure sparks flowing from the glowing weapon and crystals protruding from where it had gored the undead through. Jill gazed in awe at the weapon, then quickly turned back towards where it had seemed to come from.

And through the heat and light of the wall of fire, she saw that the Lord of Flame’s sword had changed shape into a long, twisted staff, whose head glowed with the same light as the spear that had just saved her life.

A tug on her sleeve drew her attention away from the burning knight, only to find Puck was responsible for it. “Come on, we have to hide!” said the elf in a panicked tone, pointing to a small alcove on the wall. With a nervous nod, Jill stood up and rushed towards the alcove, squeezing herself as best as possible inside, with just enough room to continue peering at the inhuman spectacle.

Seconds… Minutes… Hours… For all she could tell, it had felt like time stretched out infinitely as she continued watching. But soon, the first beams of sunrise began shining over the horizon, bathing the battlefield in their golden radiance and banishing away the last few spirits that had gathered on the scorched battleground. Small flames still burned in isolated spots, feeding on the fat and flesh of the bodies and limbs about, their reddened flesh caked in the blood of the now once-more dead, with only two figures remaining alive:

Guts, whose body was splayed tiredly on the ground, Dragon Slayer resting at his side as he gasped for breath, the bags under his eyes seeming even more pronounced than before and several fresh new cuts adorning his skin.

And standing tall, framed against the sunlight that had been ruled by the first soul that had gained them life, with the Dragonslayer Swordspear and Firelink Greatsword stabbed upright onto the ground at their side, the Lord of Flame merely gazed at the skies.

With a strained effort, Guts pushed himself up until he managed to sit upright before pulling Dragon Slayer closer to himself once more. The swordsman let out a weary sigh, before turning his head towards the spot where Jill and Puck had been hidden with a cold, yet resigned glare.

“Out, you two”

And so Jill did, squeezing herself out of the alcove and towards the two figures. Puck quickly flew to beside Guts and began circling the swordsman with a concerned look in his face.

“So many injuries…” muttered the elf as he hovered around the man, reaching out towards one of the many bleeding cuts. Suddenly, without warning Guts grabbed Puck from the air and began shaking him vigorously over his injuries, sprinkling a faint golden dust at his body. With the deed done, he threw the elf over his shoulder and heaved out a long exhale. Puck spun through the air with a series of surprised yelps, before finally righting himself to glare and shake his fists furiously at Guts. “Hey, what’s the big idea you oaf?! You could have just asked!”

“Pipe down, you’re gonna give me a worse headache…” grumbled the swordsman before turning his attention to the girl watching the whole exchange. “Why’d you follow me?”.

Jill clenched her fists softly, her eyes focused on the ground as her thoughts raced a mile an hour, until finally she found purchase the words she had spoken once earlier to the burning knight. “… That big elf… She might be a friend who vanished a long time ago…”

“Heh… So that’s how it is” chuckled Guts in return. He shook his head in amusement, wincing minutely when his injuries flared at the action, but remained calm. “Alright… You’re gonna tell me all about that giant bug. But first… You’re gonna answer my own questions”.

The last statement, he had directed to the Lord of Flames, who just now turned to face the two humans beneath them. Their embers had died down once more, but this time they seemed even weaker than before, with the gestalt’s posture remaining rigid even as they retrieved their weapons and holstered them to their body. With a wave of their hand, the few flames still burning abandoned their fuel and flew towards the outstretched limb, snaking around the arm and into the gestalt’s chest. The task complete, the knight fully faced Guts and peered down with their empty helm. “Yes… As I am sure you have”.

“Alright then… What were those things, those corpses that attacked? They felt strange… Different from the things I normally fight”

“… They are the soulless ones, who had nothing but desire for humanity left in their shells… They are **Hollow** ”

**-O-**

In a distant land, touched by a dying sun and home to a ritual most profane, five figures turned at once towards the sky that had for eons remained immutable.

And beside the blackened star, darker still than it, rose a new mark. A ring of fire, with a core of utter darkness.

And of the five figures, the most ancient of them watched as the swirls and tides of causality began distorting, blurring themselves in a way never seen before.

“ **This world… Has been breached** ”

**-O-**

Not far from the Guts and the Lord’s battleground, a figure clad in blue and silver, with a mask over their face, watched intently as embers fell from the sky and reached out to grasp one, before turning their gaze to the direction they had come from.

“… The fire… I’ve found it”


	6. UPDATE

**… Okay, time for something that might make some people mad, but please understand.**

**When I make a crossover, I wish to stay as faithful as possible to the canon of both crossed settings, out of respect for the original work, and because that allows people to better follow the plot and changes, even if wild swerves make lots of big changes to the canon.**

**That, of course… Is hard to do with Berserk.**

**I will admit that, because I never played the Souls games and instead have all my info/lore from wiki articles and related, it still has an end to its tale, and because of that can be more easily manipulated for any desired effects.**

**Berserk, however… Well, even if some of the _scope_ of the story can be quite grand (the Kushan war and expansion of Falconia being good examples, and the former is something I really want to expand on, cause ffs Ganishka got all hyped as a devil king of a demon army, then jobbed ultra-hard to GRIFFISU), truth be told the story tends to be bogged down by two things: Its more personal POV by following Guts’ group and sometimes characters related to them, and Miura being very eclectic with publishing dates.**

**Nothing against him, the work is still great and it feels like he called up the God Hand itself to get drawing skills like that, but… Well, we all remember the boat meme.**

**So, with that in mind, and considering how fucking big of a reveal chapter 392 was (and wasn’t at the same time)…**

**Burning Fire is (ironically) being put on the freezer.**

**I hate doing this. I really do.**

**But I want to work on BFBR not only on the personal level, but on a cosmic level as well. For those who remember the original chapter 83 of the manga, you know what I mean when I say the astral level of Berserk would work GREAT with DS’ stuff, and was one of the reason I would (slight spoiler) bring in more characters from the Souls games… But that chapter was de-canonized on Miura’s wishes and kept for later due to setting a hard limit on the setting, so… Yeah.**

**For the fans of this fic, I am deeply sorry.**

**Once we have more stuff to work with, I’ll resume going and we’ll see more of Spicy Knight Man and his new friend, Pure Anger Dude.**

**For now… We’re getting on a new boat.**


End file.
